be believed. Do you know, Lionel, what I
fancy he thinks?"

"What?" asked Lionel.

"That if mamma were obliged to exert and rouse herself--were like any
poor person, for instance, who cannot lie by and be nursed--she would be
well directly. And--unkind, unlike a daughter as it may seem in me to
acknowledge it--I do very much incline to the same opinion."

Lionel made no reply.

"Only Dr. West has not the candour to say so," went on Decima. "So long
as he can keep her lying here, he will do it; she is a good patient for
him. Poor mamma gives way, and he helps her to do it. I wish she would
discard him, and trust to Jan."

"You don't like Dr. West, Decima?"

"I never did," said Decima. "And I believe that, in skill, Jan is quite
equal to him. There's this much to be said of Jan, that he is sincere
and open as if he were made of glass. Jan will never keep a patient in
bed unnecessarily, or give the smallest dose more than is absolutely
requisite. Did you hear of Sir Rufus Hautley sending for Jan?"

"No."

"He is ill, it seems. And when he sent to Dr. West's, he expressly
desired that it might be Mr. Jan Verner to answer the summons. Dr. West
will not forgive that in a hurry."

"That comes of prejudice," said Lionel; "prejudice not really deserved
by Dr. West. Since the reading of the will, Sir Rufus has been bitter
against the Massingbirds; and Dr. West, as connected with them, comes in
for his share of the feeling."

"I hope he may not deserve it in any worse way than as connected with
them," returned Decima, with more acrimony than she, in her calm
gentleness, was accustomed to speak.

The significant tone struck Lionel. "What do you mean, Decima?"

Decima glanced round. They were standing at the far end of the corridor
at the window which overlooked the domains of Sir Rufus Hautley. The
doors of the several rooms were closed, and no one was about. Decima
spoke in a whisper--

"Lionel, I cannot divest myself of the opinion that--that----"

"That what?" he asked, looking at her in wonder, for she was hesitating
strangely, her manner shrinking, her voice awe-struck.

"That it was Dr. West who took the codicil."

Lionel's face flushed--partially with pain; he did not like to hear it
said, even by Decima.

"You have never suspected so much yourself?" she asked.

"Never, never. I hope I never shall suspect it. Decima, you perhaps
cannot help the thought, but you can help speaking of it."

"I did not m